Permanent
by EastCanada
Summary: Features the song, "Permanent" by David Cook. Mycroft has been dying of Liver cancer for a while and then gets attacked on the job, which leads to Sherlock finding out. And his impending death. Not very good. Just warning you now.


Sherlock was the one who got the call first. He had been in the flat, boredly watching crap Telly. When his phone buzzed unexpectedly, Sherlock grabbed it within the instant, hoping for a new case, then his heart dropped into the pit of his stomach as he read it.

" Come quickly to St. Bart's.

Mycroft's been attacked.

~Anthea"

Sherlock was up from the couch in an instant, changing to more decent clothes and slipping on his scarf and coat as he did so. He bounded doors the steep front stairs and out the door before Mrs. Hudson even had a chance to call out to him. Sherlock's phone was out of his pocket within moments as he texted John.

" Come to St. Bart's as quickly as possible.

Mycoft's been attacked.

SH"

He hailed a taxi and was on his way to St. Bart's ignoring the nagging thread of worry that was quickly blossoming in his mind.

-TheTimeSkippythingiegoesheredudes!-

Sherlock was harassing the young girl nurse at the front desk for information when John finally arrived. He quickly hustled over and got between them, taking matters into his own hands.

"Hello Miss. Could you please point us to the direction of Mycroft Holmes' room?"

He asked, quite politely and she told them a room number in the ICU. They made their way to the room and Sherlock practically kicked down the door to find the last thing he was expecting, Mycroft lying in the hospital bed, looking sickly and frail. He was awake but just barely, his body covered in bruises and cuts. But there was more then that wrong with Mycroft, you could easily tell.

"What's wrong with you My?"

Sherlock snapped as he sat in one of those horribly cramped hospital chairs near the bed. Mycroft smiled at both of them.

"Liver cancer I'm afraid, final stages it would appear. Of course, getting beaten up wasn't included in the equation before. And before you ask, Yes, I've known about my cancer for a long time Sherlock, I know this is the way it's going to end."

Mycoft said solemnly, taking one of Sherlock's hands in his own. Sherlock pressed Mycroft's hand to his forehead and the brothers stayed like that for a long while. John left to stand outside, giving the brothers their privacy. Two or three hours past with Sherlock just sitting like that. Mycroft smiled at his brother. He remembered the day when their Mummy had brought home that squalling little pink baby and he was told that it was his new baby brother.

From that first moment that Mycroft held Sherlock, he knew, he was instantly protective of him, the child would always have this sheer disregard of his own safety, this simple fact drew Mycroft's too his wit's end. It was at this time that a Teenage Mycroft made a vow, if there was breath in his body, Sherlock wouldn't be harmed. He had to protect him.

"Sherlock, come up here."

Mycroft rasped and Sherlock did as he was told, climbing up onto the bed and clinging to his older brother as he began to sing.

" Is this the moment where I look you in the eye?

Forgive my broken promise that you'll never see me cry

And everything, it will surely change

Even if I tell you I won't go away today. "

Mycroft began to cough at this part and Sherlock clung to his big brother until it subsided.

"Will you think that you're all alone

When no one's there to hold your hand?

When all you know seems so far away

And everything is temporary, rest your head

I'm permanent."

Sherlock didn't even bother to hide his tears, he just let them fall and stain Mycroft's hospital gown, but wasn't that what they were used for anyway, to mop up despair and tears?

"I know he's living in hell every single day

And so I ask, oh God is there some way for me to take his place?

And when they say it's all touch and go

I wish I could make it go away but still you say."

Mycroft was rocking Sherlock back and forth like he was nothing more than a small child, scared of the boogeyman and thunderstorms.

"Will you think that you're all alone

When no one's there to hold your hand?

When all you know seems so far away

And everything is temporary, rest your head

I'm permanent,

I'm permanent."

Mycroft crooned softly, a symphony of heart monitors and dripping IVs accompanied him.

"Is this the moment where I look you in the eye?

Forgive my promise that you'll never see me cry."

Mycroft himself, the British goverment, the Holmes. Was crying, the tears slid down his pale and gaunt cheeks, Both brothers fell asleep like that, but in the morning. Only one Holmes would awakened. Mycroft had died in his sleep that night, in the arms of his baby brother.


End file.
